


Out of Control: A Collection of U2 Shorts

by strawbarris



Category: U2
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:38:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawbarris/pseuds/strawbarris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short U2 fan fictions. They range from smutty Bedge fics to fluffy light pieces about Bono and Ali.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Song for Someone: A Bedge Story

Our bodies were pressed together, his soft skin warm against mine as we laid in the large plush bed. The morning sun splashed over the golden French coastline, filling our room with its rich light.

Gently, I kissed his bald forehead as I crept out of the bed. He was still deeply asleep, his breath was rhythmic like his guitar playing. I snuck to the other side of the room, where my black leather pants and grey tee shirt were strewn on the floor from the night before. God knows where my underwear went.

I found my sunglasses on his dresser and put them on my naked face. I was just out the door when I heard a stirring in the bed.

“Bono, what are you doing?” he muttered into the pillow.

“I, was, uh,”

“Sneaking off to see the president or something? He may need a good lay too.” he laughed, still not sitting up.

Edge has never been a morning person. For him to joke this early caught me off guard and my mind went blank, a rarity for me.

My silence must has answered something for him because he rose up slowly, looking at me with tired eyes.

“God Bono I was kidding. Are you really?”

“Not to lay him. I mean if that makes him give ONE money then I would” I giggled nervously.

Even after years of activism, I still felt embarrassed talking about it with the guys, even Edge. I always felt so uncool, so un rock and roll. Even though Edge loved me, I wanted to maintain that cool image with him, even though his was much better than mine. That’s why I was so attracted to him.

“That’s not funny Bono” He snarled.

I shrugged “I mean I do what I have to do to save the world”

Groaning loudly, Edge slumped back down on the bed. “Fuck B, you need to stop it”

“What?” I stuttered, confused. Edge rarely go mad. What did I do wrong?

“I know you care about the world but you can’t fucking save it. Sometimes I feel like you care more about saving the world than the people in your life?”

It was as if he punched me. He knew I loved my family and the band and felt guilty when I neglected them. Why did he have to through it in my face? I could feel my face flush with rage. I was going to scream something clever back at him but he interrupted me

“I was talking to Ali last night. She’s lonely, Bono. And the kids miss you. You really should spend more time with them”

“That’s fucking hilarious Edge. Why don’t you tell Ali why I couldn’t spend time with her last night? I’m sure she would love to know that her husband was being fucked by his best friend. Might as well ring Morleigh while you’re at it. Better yet, let me do it.”

I reached for my cell phone, looking like I was going to call his wife. I saw his blue grey eyes open in horror and he got up and tackled me, successfully knocking the phone out of my hands.

“Don’t you fucking dare! You are such an idiot sometimes Bono. You are not fucking God. You cannot punish someone just because you think they need it.”

I scowled at him, and picking up my phone, I walked past his naked form out the door. I hated being compared to God, whether it was sarcastically or in serious. It was not only an insult to my religion, but me as a person. I did not think I was god, nor was I trying to be.

I walked into my house, marching straight past a confused Ali who was in her robe holding a mug of coffee. Usually I would have hugged and kissed her, and probably other things since that robe drives me wild, but Edge’s comment pissed me off too much. That man always knows how to push my buttons.

Locking myself in my studio in the basement, I decided to spend the day writing. Songs of Innocence was going nowhere and it was driving me insane. Picking up my guitar, I began to put notes together. I worked without interruption for several hours until I heard someone walk downstairs.

In the doorway stood Edge, dressed in his tan leather tacked and tight jeans. I refused to let the thought about how good he looked slip in.

“Ali said you were down here. How’s writing going? Need help?”

“Get the fuck out” I hissed.

But that idiot walked closer to me, looking at what I had written in my notebook over my shoulder. He smiled and nodded in approval.

“What is it?” he asked, his beautiful face shinning with curiosity.

I thought back to what I was thinking when I wrote it. Images of both him and Ali had filled my brain for hours. I loved them both so much and I hated the thought of hurting, or being hurt by, either of them.

“A love song” I muttered hoping he would not ask the next question.

“Oh for who?” his eyebrows raised.

“It’s a song for someone” liking the taste of the phrase on my tongue. It would be a good song title.

Edge laughed “Okay I won’t push. Listen B, about earlier, I’m sorry. I got angry. Forgive me”

Quickly making sure no one was coming downstairs, I laid my lips on his in a forgiving kiss. He kissed me back and turned.

“Well let’s get to work. So a song for someone eh? I think I can fix it to make it even better. And Larry could add some great drums. And Adam could…”

I tuned him out and just watched him in his element, falling in love all over again.


	2. City of Blinding Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fic I wrote for the lovely Tattered-art as part of a trade. Enjoy :)

For Tattered-god         

The rain spilled out of the drab grey sky, making the dreary London streets slick with soil and dirt. Cursing myself for forgetting my umbrella, I bent my head down to keep the rain off my face. Of course, it caused my hair to flatten on my head in a dark brown mess. I would have to fix that later.

            I had spent all day walking around the city, going from record company to record company. Every time I went to one, I would either get laughed at or get a polite smile from the over happy secretary and a “I promise to pass your demo on”. Of course, it never was. I had struck out on ten labels.

            Looking up at the large glass building, I swallowed my nerves. This was the band’s last shot. If I got turned away here, then we were in a lot of trouble. I had no clue what we would do next. We would probably have to go back home to Dublin. I would have to go back to uni or find a labor job somewhere. The pressure I felt throbbed in my head.

            Taking a breath, I grabbed the brass handle and opened the glass doors and strolled up to the middle aged woman behind the large black marble desk. She was rapidly talking on the phone, but her warm brown eyes followed me as I walked up to here. They squinted in…disgust, that had to be it. Her eyes were scanning my soaking flannel shirt and tattered jeans. Her noise wrinkled at my sight, which made my blood boil.

            “Leave it here” she mouthed and pointed at the desk.

I dug into my pocket and took out the demo tape. The manila envelope was thankfully still dry and U2 was proudly scrawled on it legibly. I gently put it on the desk, nodded and turned to walk out of the record company, feeling a little hopefully. But as I did, I saw the woman pick up the envelope, rip it open, and immediately throw out the tape.

The bile in my stomach rose. You had to be kidding me. She didn’t even attempt to hide it. At least the other companies were polite before throwing us away. Defeated and angry, I dragged myself back to the cheap hotel we were staying in.

I limped through the dimly light lobby, which was inhabited by woman who I suspected were prostitutes and drug dealers. In the lift I stood next to a man who smelled like a dead cat and whose clothes were in tatters. Feeling compassion for the homeless man, I reached into my pocket and pulled out two pounds, the last two pounds to my name. Smiling, I put the coins in his hand and he lit up in a toothless grin.

“God bless” he rasped, making my day a little brighter.

I felt like such a failure. I could not figure out how I was going to tell the band. The spent the day writing songs without me so I could come back with some good news. Maybe I should just quit now. They were going to fire me anyway.

Arriving at the door, I realized that I forgot my key. I knocked at the door, dreading the eager face that awaited me on the other side. Adam opened the door, a wide grin behind his large glasses. With the blonde afro, it gave him an almost clownish appearance. Normally I would have made fun of him but today I just thanked him and pushed my way into the room, causing him to frown in concern.

            Edge and Larry were sitting on a bed, pages around them. Edge was holding his guitar, hand in mid strum, like I interrupted their writing. He looked up and shot me a grin.

“How did it go today?”

I shook my head and flopped down on the bed, sighing dramatically.

“It didn’t” was all I said.

“I knew I should have went with him” Larry muttered.

“What happened?” asked Adam, who sat himself at the foot of the bed I fell on.

“I either got laughed at or ignored. That is it. There is nowhere else for us to go in the UK.”

Silence filled the room. I braced myself for whatever came next, fearing the worse. They couldn’t kick me out of the band…could they?

Edge spoke up first, “Bono, it’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

Adam nodded, “Yea B. We will get them next time. _Right_ Larry?”

I looked over to Larry who was still sitting next to Edge, scowling. He was the one I was most worried about disappointing. He’s eyes were still narrowed when he said,

“Those guys are idiots. It’s not your fault Bono”

Sighing in relief, I could feel myself relax. They weren’t mad at me. We could go on, continuing to fight for our lives. Feeling reenergized, I was ready for what was to come next, even if it meant more failure.

To celebrate, I declare that we should take a walk and find some dinner. We wound up down at the docks, eating fish and chips out of newspaper cones, laughing and joking and feeling like tourists.

Walking around the dockside I broke away from the guys, who were being now trying to feed pigeons chips. I could not help but feel like I was back in Dublin. How could two countries so similar hate each other so much? I thought this as I watched the water crash in endless waves. Song lyrics were buzzing through my hand when _whack._ Something hit me on the back of the head.

I spun around. A chip. Edge had a wide smirk on his angular face.

“Stop moping Bono” He shouted, throwing another chip at me, this time hitting me in the eye.

“You’re dead!” I shrieked back, lobbing one back at him.

An all-out fight broke out. We threw chips and anything else we could find at each other. It ended with Adam grabbing a ketchup bottle and squirting Larry, who then tackled him. Laughing, we walked back together to the hotel, ready to rest and figure out what to do next with our lives.

When we arrived back at the hotel, Larry and Edge parted to their room. Adam and I walked up the creaky stairs and saw a dirty, crinkled piece of paper was taped on me and Adam’s door.

Adam looked confused and shrugged. I ripped the piece of paper off. It was a piece of a fast food bag. On the back, in messy thing handwriting, a message was scrawled.

_Thank you my friend for your kindness. You seemed down in the lift today. I heard you talking about your band yesterday in the lobby. Go to the Marque club tomorrow and talk to the manager. Say you know Greg. God bless and Godspeed my friend._

My heart stopped and my hands trembled. This was out chance. I smiled at Adam and he knew that something happened and followed me as I took off down the stairs to tell Larry and Edge. They were never going to believe this.


End file.
